Susan's Christmas Carol
by madeofthewritestuff
Summary: Susan Pevensie's version of Dickens' classic Christmas tale...


**Authors Note: Hey guys, this is my very first Narnia fic. Hope you enjoy, please review, it means so much to me! Merry Christmas everyone :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia, I am not CS Lewis. I am writing purely for the enjoyment of myself and (hopefully) other fans!**

The sky was a dull, monotonous grey colour on the Friday night our story starts. The snow, which had fallen steadily throughout the day, seemed to have taken a break for the evening. Susan had fond memories of white Christmas' and snowfalls, snowmen and snowball fights. But London city managed to put a damper on the most magical of all weather elements. The city made the snow appear grey, like everything else. Susan pulled the collar of her coat closer to her chin, keeping the whipping wind off her chest. The usually clicking heels of her boots remained silent as she marched down the snow-covered street. At this time of night, the street was empty save for Susan herself. As she turned the corner onto her own avenue, she spotted two drunken men at the corner opposite. They sported half-empty bottles and foolish grins. As they saw her approach, they began to shout,  
"Hey beau'iful! Go' any plans tonight?" Susan resolutely ignored them.  
"Come on love!" She was going to have to walk straight past them to get to her house, Susan thought, inwardly cursing herself for remaining out so late.  
"Oi! What abou' a dance?" the taller of the men asked, grabbing Susan's hand. She tried to pull away but he had a firm grip. He brought his face close to hers and Susan saw several missing teeth. His breath smelled of beer and whisky and smoke.  
"Now wha's a pretty girl like you doing out so late? Go' a boyfriend?" Susan shook her head, nobody. She saw the bottle hanging loosely in the hand of the other man and took her chance. Her silent boot knocked the bottle out of the man's hand and in the split second of confusion that followed, she ran. She headed straight for the gate and fumbled with the lock when a gloved hand pulled her back. He shoved his hand over her mouth before she could scream or shout.  
"Tha' wasn't very clever beau'iful" the man warned. Before Susan knew it, the man had raised his hand and slapped her cheek. She fell backwards onto the cold snow with the force of the smack. The red mark growing on her cheek clashed horribly with the grey-white of the snow.

Susan wasn't sure how she had gone from lying on the snow to being covered in it. All she knew was that a white light was all around her. She realised it was too dazzling to be London snow. It reminded her of an earlier time, Christmas in the country with the Professor ("before he died and the house was sold", thought Susan), or Christmas somewhere else, another world. But the light wasn't cold, and Susan noticed she wasn't wearing her coat anymore, or her boots. Instead, she was dressed in a simple blue dress with a white shirt underneath. In all the distraction of clothing, Susan hadn't noticed the bright light beginning to fade; more colours were appearing, as though it was a fresh picture from a Polaroid. Reds, yellows, oranges, blues and greens materialised before her eyes and found their place in the jigsaw. Susan found herself standing up straight, looking at the colours creating a picture before her.

It was Christmas, Susan realised. No doubt about it from the decorated tree in the corner and the boughs of holly hanging out of every available place. Four stockings hung over the fireplace, each one labelled and filled to the brim with presents. The decorations were very Lucy-like, Susan thought hesitantly. Lo and behold, there in the centre of the scene was a nightgown clad Lucy, ushering everyone to sit down by the fire. Susan gave a little jolt as she realised just who _everyone_ was. They filed in one by one after Lucy, looking sleepy yet excited; Peter, his eyes almost as bright as Susan had ever seen them, a grumpy Edmund, her gentle mother and, with a gasp from Susan, a beaming Susan. The Susan in the scene was younger-they all were- than she was now. Her father followed shortly, ruffling Edmund's hair as he passed, causing the young boy to yelp and attempt to smooth it out. Susan smiled at the picturesque view before her. It must have been before the war; her mother's eyes still sparked with joy, Peter still smiled and her father was unscarred and unharmed. Gifts were being exchanged and records were being played. She watched as Lucy reached for a neatly-wrapped gift, adorned with a glistening red bow. Without realising Susan felt a small smile appear on her face. That was the year she had gotten Lucy a wonderful book on fairytales, the stories which made Lucy believe in the power of magic before she saw it in reality. A single tear cascaded down Susan's cheek as Lucy hugged her younger self in thanksgiving. Susan was losing herself into her memories when the bright light came again, blocking all the colours out.

Susan watched the bright light, not fighting it. She waited for the colours to appear, the world to fall into place. She caught sight of green beneath her; she felt the rough touch of grass and weeds between her toes. Her hand moved by her side and she brushed past the stalk of a sunflower. She saw the vivid yellows and browns of the flower, falling against the backdrop of the cloudless, blue sky. She heard the vaguely familiar sound of pipes and songs of another time. She looked to her left to see a cliff, and her feet would not bring her nearer the edge. In fact, her feet would not bring her anywhere at all. She suspected the next scene would come to her, and so she sat on a nearby rock to wait. Within no time, the sound of pipes grew louder; she could hear jingling bells and a swarm of voices. Susan looked to her left and saw a party of creatures coming her way, the carriers of the noise. She made out figures as they approached, the outline of fauns, beavers and various animals. What she also noticed was three humans leading the charge. Susan caught sight of Lucy first. She was bundled up with a coat, a scarf a hat and gloves. All that was visible were her delightful eyes and rosy cheeks. She was laughing with Edmund. He had grown taller than she remembered, Susan thought. His dark hair was peeking out from under his red hat. Following them was Peter, who was grinning from ear to ear. His smile was genuine, his laughter filled the air. Susan couldn't remember a time when he had looked so care-free, it had been too long she guessed. The congregation were coming close to her now, they would notice her in a minute. Lucy skipped ahead, her long brown hair trailing magnificently behind her. Edmund announced a game of chase and hurried after her. Peter shook his head amusedly at his sibling's antics. Lucy was coming towards her and Susan was blinking back tears. It would feel so good to embrace her little sister again, tease Peter or chastise Edmund good-naturedly. Susan held her arms out, ready to catch the running Lucy. She was so close, just a few more of Lucy's strides and she would be in her arms, and Susan's heart would be home. When-

The overbearing hoot of a train pierced through Susan's ears. It was coming to close to her and all she could think of was Lucy's arms in hers, Edmund's chin resting on her arm by the fire, Peter offering her a soft goodnight kiss on the forehead. But the train didn't break, it steamed on by. The bright lights of its headlights blinded her once more. She could hear screams and shouts, pleas for help. She heard muffled sobs. The train chugged away.  
Susan didn't realise she was sobbing until everything had become silent and all that could be heard were her gasping breaths. The screams had gone, the train had passed through and the light was fading. Susan found herself back in her sitting room, but many things had changed. The Christmas tree stood once again in the corner, but it was sparsely decorated. No fire was lit, no records were playing and a lone stocking hung over the fireplace, labelled _Susan_. It was empty, as it has been for years, thought Susan. A figure appeared in the sitting room and strolled towards the mirror hanging on the opposite wall. Judging by the reflection, Susan realised it was an older version of herself. Her face was a little bit more lined, her wrinkles a bit more pronounced. She was wearing a short black dress and leather jacket, which made Susan cringe when she saw it. This older Susan applied a fresh layer of red lipstick, ran a hand through her long brown tresses and picked up her bag to leave. On the way out, the lonely stocking caught her eye. She leaned over to pluck it from its hanging place and without a second thought, disposed of it in the bin by the door.

Susan took long deep breaths, she could feel icy air entering her lungs. She couldn't still be inside; even if future Susan's heart was cold, her house wouldn't be. She noticed the cold wetness on her back. Her eyes opened tentatively. Sure enough she was outside once more. She recognised the buildings before her, the bench, and the bus stop at the corner. She was back on her avenue. She twisted her head ever so slightly to the right and saw the broken bottle on the ground, its contents almost frozen on top of the snow. All was silent as Susan sat up, rubbing her eyes. The men seemed to have scattered. She tried to piece together what had happened….late night at the office….walking home…..drunk men…..running….slap….joy. Susan decided it was not wise to remain outside in the freezing cold. She hurriedly let herself in through her gate and slipped into her house. She took large, deep breaths to calm herself. Without noticing, she had walked to the small bathroom upstairs. She sat and leaned against the white bath tub, the tile cooling her surprisingly warm face. When she felt she had regained enough strength, she stood up and stumbled to the sink, she splashed some cold water on her face before stretching up and looking at her reflection in the mirror. Her vivid red lipstick was smeared across her face, her new dress was torn in several places. Her hair lay wild and unruly upon her head. This was not Susan, this was not her. Susan was somewhere else, _should_ be somewhere else. In a world where animals talked, vibrant colours could be seen and where her siblings existed. She closed her eyes and imagined the rough mane of the Lion, the soft tones of the dryads, the crashing of waves onto the rocks of Cair Paravel. It was where Susan belonged, not grey London. Her heart was full of reds, oranges, yellows, blues and greens, her heart was full of roaring lions and dancing fauns and hooves of horses. Her body didn't belong on city streets, it belonged in forests of green and seas of blue. Her soul didn't belong to Earth; it belonged to Narnia; to Aslan and Narnia.

**Love it? Hate it? Drop me a line and let me know x**


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